my father sleeps alone
while mother weeps
in our living room
there lays dust
on the other side
of the bed
we're still children
rupture calls too soon
we come into being
and then we vanish
this cycle will come
to its ending days
samsara speaks to me
as it says nothing lasts
and everything decays
and mother loves the
color black
the darker fear of departure
doesn't mean forgiving
- and the living room isn't for the living
YOU ARE READING
The blue flower that taught me how to live
Poetry''Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.'' -Herman Hesse Disclaimer: I don't own any of the videos, photos used for this book. Credits go out...
